My Husband is a Spy
by Daughter Of The Revolution
Summary: Ivan and Alfred have a good life; a nice big house in a safe little neighborhood, two cars, a stable marriage now going on for 6 years, and of course steady income on both ends. The thing is though; said steady income is coming in through government appointed missions. We're talking KGB vs CIA. RusAme. Longshot!


**DOTR: That's right! I've been wasting my time (and life) on this oneshot! Anywho. Something that popped into my head one day and I had to get it out of me. Turned out longer than expected though. Eh, they all do.**

**Time? Set somewhere in the 1960's probably. Cold War era.**

**CIA vs KGB and crap like that. I don't really have a clue how spy stuff works except for the Hollywood renditions. Not rewriting this thing though. Was a pain to type up. Inspired by the picture titled Mr. & Mr. Cold War which in part was inspired by the cover of Mr. & Mrs. Smith.**

**Warnings!**

**Murder**

**Gore**

**Torture**

**Violence**

**Language**

**Sex . . . and lots of, especially hate sex.**

* * *

"Mr. Braginski, I'm leaving now."

The sound of muffled, "Mmph, mmph!" which Ivan reasoned were the words, "No, no!" He smiled when he turned from the front opened door to see his husband of—oh, it's coming on six years now—come running down the hall out of the kitchen with a peanut-buttered toast in his mouth. It was his sorry excuse for a breakfast after sleeping through his alarm clock three times and waking up with only fifteen minutes to get ready for work.

Flinging his arms out the younger wrapped his arms around his spouse and hugged him tight. Leaning back he smiled and popped the toast out of his mouth with a smile before puckering his lips for the goodbye kiss. Ivan simply chuckled and placed a finger on the blonde's expectant folds and tsked.

"Ah, ah, sunflower. No peanuts for me," Ivan explained—again.

Alfred frowned before pulling away and holding up his index finger to signal for Ivan to wait. Ivan humored himself and did so, listening with a smile as his husband bounded up the stairs and busted into their room and then their bathroom. He listened to the sound of rushing water then vigorous scrubbing. He was brushing his teeth. That Alfred, always wanting his goodbye kiss no matter Ivan's allergy.

After the audible gurgling and spit Ivan watched his young husband leap down the stairs, impressed that he leapt from the top, and landed into the hall before skidding to a stop in front of Ivan, throwing his arms out again. The blond closed his beautiful blue eyes and puckered his lips demanding attention.

Ivan smiled and nodded. He leant down and kissed his husband goodbye and gasped when Alfred threw his arms around his neck and attempted to deepen the kiss.

"Mm, mm, nyet." Ivan pulled back despite Alfred's following lips afterwards followed by his puppy-eyed disappointed eyes. "Too minty this time. Besides, you've received your kiss and as I recall you are . . ." Looking down at his watch Ivan's brows rose. "Already five minutes late."

"Shit!" Alfred gasped before whizzing back into the kitchen to grab his pack and then shoved himself outside along with Ivan. The two roamed to their vehicles, Alfred reaching his first by the sprint but because he kept fumbling the keys Ivan caught up to him and unlocked his car the same time Alfred had. Opening both doors the two turned and smiled. Leaning over one last time they shared a quick peck on the lips before ducking into their respective transportation and heading off to work.

* * *

Ivan had told Alfred that he was a Shipping Manager. He was, to a certain extent. Besides, most of his "cargo" was handled in the docking area and in terms that he was the overseer of the handling then yes, he was the Manager.

"Ah!"

There went his shin bone.

"Gah!"

There went his elbow.

"AH!"

There went his ankle.

Ivan let out a sigh along with the addictive tasting smoke he had inhaled only a second earlier. Shaking his head he placed the black leather gloves on his palms and then jumped off the crate he had been leisurely sitting on while his men did his work for him. Stamping out his cigarette Ivan walked over toward the tied up man who was hanging from a small crane though by the look of his elbow, he looked ready to fall out of the ties.

"You will tell me what I asked for earlier," Ivan demanded, letting his Russian accent thicken. Taking a hold of the man's throat, Ivan squeezed. He pulled the frightened man close and smiled. "You knew we were watching you. If you knew about us then you know about what we want. Give me the list now and you may keep one bone unbroken."

"I don't have the files with me!" the man begged. "I swear it!"

Just because he didn't have said files on him Ivan retracted his hand and punched the man into his nose, effectively breaking it all over again. The cartilage felt like nothing but cracker crumbs against Ivan's leathered knuckles. Grasping the man's bobbing head, Ivan forced his swollen eyes to look at him.

"Then it must be at house with little wife and daughter?" Ivan hmmed and watched the man grow pale. Pushing away Ivan stood straight and waved his hand. His underlings then brought out the mentioned beings, both clutching to the other, both crying.

"Harold!" the man's wife cried out while she tried to shield her daughter's view the best she could.

"Marlene, Jennifer!" the man cried out through numb lips. "I'll tell you everything. Please, just don't hurt my family! They're all I have!"

"Da," Ivan said with a nod as he walked over and ran his fingers through the mother's brunette hair. "A family is very useful for us, always makes them talk. But I don't want you to talk. I want you to give us the files. I am stressed for time and if I find it slipping by me then I'm afraid I'm going to have to start killing them."

"NO!"

Taking out a gun Ivan shoved it against the wife's head. She shrieked in fear and cried out sobs.

"One . . ."

"They're in my office!" the man swore.

"Two . . ."

"It's in my safe under the bottom drawer of my desk!"

"Tick . . . tick . . ."

"I'm the only one who knows the code! If you'd just let me—!"

Lowering the gun down to the little pig-tailed girl, Ivan pressed it against her small skull while the mother and the father cried out.

Ivan smiled. He was pressed for time after all. What was a man to do?

"Three."

* * *

Shipping Managing did not pay near as well Mother Russia did after a successful mission. It was through these funds that Ivan managed to support him and his husband. Affording that house in that neighborhood and those two cars with that mileage . . . the costs added up. Sure Alfred worked as well, but nursing despite popular belief could not afford the necessities which Ivan's job could.

With a smile Ivan looked down at his watch. Perfect, he wasn't a minute late. Settling the bouquet of sunflowers in his arms slightly he knocked on the front door.

He chuckled when he heard something drop. It sounded like a pot and if he wasn't mistaken then he suspected Alfred to be trying to make a sort of dinner. His cooking wasn't that great, but Ivan enjoyed the effort put into the creation—whatever it was.

His husband had been off work for about an hour already which gave Ivan enough time to go out, get cleaned up, get dressed up, pick out flowers, and a present for his beloved, and that also gave time for Alfred to fix himself up and attempt preparing a sort of dinner.

The door opened quickly, Alfred always intended to swing open his doors, and shut them loudly as well. His eyes sparkled when he beheld his spouse.

"Ivan!" Alfred gasped. "You look amazing!"

No matter how long they'd been married nor how many times Ivan would come home after a long day at "work" Alfred's eyes would always sparkle and that smile would never falter when the arrival came.

"Da, I'm glad you like it," Ivan said, observing the way his American husband scanned his form and took in the nice dress of clothing. After one last whiff, Ivan pressed the bouquet into Alfred's arms. "These are for you, my love."

"Oh, Ivan, they're beautiful," Alfred said sweetly as he inhaled their scent in thanks before pulling his husband into a hug. "I've prepared dinner!" Turning around he dashed back into the house while Ivan entered into the foyer to take off his coat, of course leaving his hand-knitted scarf on like he always did.

The smell was familiar and Ivan realized that yet again it was hamburgers. It was one of the only things Alfred knew how to cook, but he did an excellent job on them. Still, Ivan in a way wished his husband would give him a chance to cook and show him some Russian cuisine, but Alfred, being the ever loving husband, saw it as his duty for some odd reason.

"Hamburgers and candlelight?" Ivan asked as he peeked inside the dining room to find their two seater table offering two tall candles for light. "Only an American would see that as remotely romantic."

"Hey!" Alfred's head zipped out of the kitchen with a warring glare before a smile turned his lips and mood into something playful. "You're an American too, sweetheart." With that factual statement Alfred was back inside the kitchen clinking plates and slamming cabinets.

Ivan sighed. He had been living in America for a good ten years now. Coming here was quite easy despite the rival country's worry over Russians, but after some swiped and rescripted records Ivan and a few other "coworkers" managed to catch an American visa. The public saw them as refugees, having escaped the horrible Soviet Union for a better life in the states. Work was easy to find and the people were very friendly after the suspicion, if only through their pity.

But Ivan was the smarter out of his partners. While they went into hiding or tried to find other allies, Ivan sought out marriage. He knew that if he were to wed an American his status would fall away from any suspicious glares from too smart civilians. So, after three years of work in Shipping Management Ivan had taken a tumble off one of the crates and cracked his skull. The concussion sent him straight to the hospital and straight into a certain nurse's care.

Alfred had been a mere eighteen years old at the time. Ivan could tell he was new with an older nurse explaining everything to him and offering to let him help Ivan on his own that time. Alfred did a good job despite a few setbacks that had to do with a catheter that Ivan would rather not talk about.

After a few weeks in the ICU Ivan realized he had found the one he wanted to marry. Of course his original plan was going to be a woman because the nation didn't particularly hand out marriage licenses to homosexuals, but with Alfred he knew he had to have him. After getting to know him all that time while he nursed him back to health Ivan wouldn't give him up.

Surprisingly Alfred had been just as persistent that they marry as well in a country so strict. And if there was one thing Ivan knew about Alfred F. Jones, was that if the boy wanted something then he'd get it. Yes, that was right; it had been all Alfred that had pulled the strings for the marriage to become official. To Ivan's surprise he had known a few politicians and judges, saying they had been friends of the family.

Just to be safe Ivan researched him. Well, Alfred was never one to lie. The American was a purebred in terms. He had a family line leading back to the early English settlers known as the Pilgrims. His family was actually very honorary in saying that he had relatives that fought in every major war involving the USA from the French and Indian War to the American Revolutionary War to the American Civil War and then to the World Wars. He's stayed connected to powerful family friends and Ivan couldn't believe on the luck he'd had with him.

They wed when Alfred turned nineteen. That very summer they said their vows and got their license and moved in together. Their first house was modest as Ivan would have it until showing his husband a few "raises" he had come to receive from the company employing him. It wasn't long until the two picked the neighborhood they wanted to live in with the upper class and even the nice house. The two cars they owned—Alfred picked out Ivan's, and Ivan picked out Alfred's. They were a very endearing couple and Ivan could tell that Alfred was deeply in love. As was Ivan of course, but work was work and as long as his little sunflower didn't know then he could go on loving him.

"Ivan, chill, dude. Could it kill you to sit down?" Alfred asked as he came into the dining room with two plates of neatly prepared hamburger. He set the plates down and then wiped his hand on his shirt. "Bon appetite!"

"I want to give you your present," Ivan insisted as he pulled out a sleek black box and held it out to his husband. Alfred had already taken his seat at the table and about dug into his food before looking at the box curiously.

Whether it was birthdays, holidays, or anniversaries, Alfred always loved presents. He couldn't resist until they were unwrapped and opened up before his eyes. So it was no surprise to watch the young blond jump out of his seat and snatch the box out of Ivan's hand. When he opened it, Ivan adored the sparkle the candlelight reflected in Alfred's eyes.

"My god!" Alfred gasped as his smile beamed and he took out the object and set it on his wrist. "This . . . this is a Cartier, isn't it? !"

"Da. Francis helped me pick it out for you. I personally wanted something more expensive, but he sided that you wouldn't like anything more flashy."

"_More_ expensive? !" Alfred's jaw dropped and his knees buckled. Ivan was quick to support him and chuckled at his faint-like expression. "I'm happy you like it so much."

"Ivaaaan," Alfred groaned. "What about the cars?"

"Already paid them off as of last Tuesday. They are ours," Ivan informed.

Alfred looked at the watch and then up at his husband who was still holding him. Wrapping his arms around the man's scarfed neck Alfred chuckled and wiggled his eye brows.

"I should think you're trying to bribe me," Alfred said as he leaned up and planted a soft kiss on his husband's lips. Ivan smiled into the kiss and pressed back before Alfred let gravity push him back down.

"Perhaps I am," Ivan replied, his voice dropping a little, letting his accent seep out thicker.

"Oh?" Alfred's fingers played their way up and down Ivan's shoulders before rubbing under his ears, down his jaw and then down his neck. "And what would you like in return?"

"Just a little sex," Ivan whispered as he breathed hot air into his lover's ear and smirked at the shiver. Alfred's mouth opened as if to let out a moan but he remained quiet while he tightened his arms around Ivan's neck, pressing their chest together. Ivan lifted Alfred up in his arms to where his wet lips ghosted over his ear and a warm tongue snuck out to lap at the lobe.

"I think I can do that," Alfred whispered back.

And just like that their dinner was forgotten.

* * *

They say that marital sex is some of the best sex and Ivan would have to agree. Back in Russia he once had three lovers and so he fairly knew his way around the act, but having an American lover had changed his perspective on everything about intercourse. Before, even after having three lovers, Ivan was not a sexual deviant man. Actually, unlike most men he could go months, maybe years without even thinking about intercourse or touching himself for that matter but after meeting Alfred that all changed.

Like the cute little boy he was, Alfred had waited until marriage to consummate their relationship. He had been such an adorable virgin, but Ivan had to realize he had wedded a teenager—a teenager who had yet to experience the pleasures of sex. So after Alfred had, the boy jumped his bones ever second he got.

Ivan had actually been worn out by him. He, Ivan Braginski, prided himself with a high sense of libido but it was nothing compared to a horny post-teenager. Now that Alfred was twenty-five things have mellowed out in their sex life. Of course Ivan didn't doubt that if he should ask Alfred for a lay once every day for two weeks straight then the blond would be happy to oblige.

"Yes! Yes! Oh God, Ivan! There! AH!"

Alfred was always so loud but Ivan enjoyed it. His other lovers had tried to keep as quiet as possible when underneath him. Why? Because Ivan hated noise, but Alfred's noise was different. Alfred's noise hardened him to near pain and Ivan loved it.

Fingers curled inward on their grip of Alfred's hips as Ivan dragged his husband back toward him every time a powerful thrust rocked his body upward on their bed. He didn't want Alfred to hit his head against the headboard, which had happened before and resulted in a nasty crane in the boy's neck though of course he _had_ asked for it.

Alfred spread his legs as wide as they could go and held onto Ivan's shoulders, the watch still on his sweaty wrist. His eyes glew a bright blue as he stared up at his lover and through their gaze Ivan read the message in Alfred's eyes that was so demanding he had no choice but to obey, _fuck me harder!_

Leaning down, Ivan pressed his weight on the younger and bent his knees to sit on his thighs while Alfred's hips sat in his. He could ram into him harder this way and by the sound of Alfred's screams, he was right.

"Ah! Harder! Harder! Just like that!"

Alfred threw his head back and let go of Ivan's shoulders. His arms reaching underneath his head to curl into the pillow beneath him. Ivan liked him like this, legs spread wide, head tilted back, and eyes closed in ecstasy as he fucked him into insanity.

Reaching down, Ivan ran his hand over his husband's chest and worshiped the bumpy muscle gained from the past few years of devoting himself to the gym. Alfred had already had a large frame and muscle of his own at the age of nineteen, but as his teenage years waned the toned and thicker form of an adult settled on him and Ivan was there to watch, and to fuck him as he changed.

Anniversaries were particularly pleasant for Ivan. He didn't have to wear condoms and was allowed to cum inside his husband. It was a special treat for the both of them and Alfred would always manage at least one night of discomfort in the year. So Ivan made sure his seed didn't go to waste.

Pulling Alfred's hips close, Ivan bucked into him deep and released. His eyes closed and he let out a string of Russian that Alfred was too oblivious to catch—he knew he didn't really like him speaking Russian around him, especially when they were in bed. As he collapsed he twisted to his side so not to fall on Alfred. The boy may now be a man but he was still smaller than him.

The sound of heavy breathing filled the room and remained that way for a while before Alfred turned onto his belly and once again gazed at the watch. His fingers rubbed over the beautiful surface before he felt Ivan kiss his bare shoulder and lean over him just slightly.

"Open it up," Ivan said with another kiss.

Alfred stared at him curiously before doing as told and inside he gasped. There was a picture implanted into the inside piece. It was their wedding picture. The two of them, both studs wearing matching tuxedos.

"Ivan, you really are too much," Alfred said as he leaned over and nuzzled himself into his husband who responded in kind. "How can I ever hope to get you something as good as this?"

"Just you being with me is enough," Ivan said as he trailed kisses down Alfred's neck then to his shoulder and arm all the way up to the watch where he planted a sweet kiss on the photo and then held Alfred's hand to his heart. "No matter if we've only been married for six years, this day is special, because it's the day you said, 'I do'."

"Sap," Alfred chuckled as he pushed Ivan off of him who nearly rolled off the bed. With another giggle Alfred scooted closer to him and kissed him. "But I love ya anyhow."

"Da, and I do you."

They kissed and had sex at least two more times before their anniversary night ended.

* * *

"Still no possible suspects to the murder of the Harrison family, but the police, as well as the government are looking into it. The crime is now on its eight da—"

"Tch, damn Russians," Alfred muttered as he poured some milk into his cereal and observed the news from the kitchen island. Quick to catch himself he turned toward his husband who was sitting at the table reading a newspaper. He caught that upset look in his eyes. "Oh, except you, Ivan."

The Russian turned to him and then offered a smile. "Remember, I'm not Russian, I'm American."

"Of course," Alfred chirped, digging his spoon into the flakes. "Man . . . I don't know why they can't find these guys. You know it has to be them. They've been causing us trouble since the Forties. That man worked for the government. They probably wanted something from him."

"Do you think they got it?" Ivan asked as he took up his coffee and sipped a little.

"Dunno," Alfred said. He then sighed and slumped his shoulders, looking over at his husband apologetically. "Look, I'm sorry but I really don't like your people, Ivan. It's a wonder you managed to escape."

"Da," Russia nodded and then turned his eyes toward the television. He covered his tracks quite good and he, being the suspect, lived in the very same city as the government agent that he had murdered. It was all fine though, as long as he got what he wanted and no one discovered him then he had nothing to worry about. In fact, thanks to Alfred's camouflage over him he stopped worrying a long time ago.

The police were looking for singles; the police were looking for Russians who banded together. Definitely not someone like Ivan who had settled down years ago and is enjoying an easy life with his American husband.

"Any luck on your sisters' arrival?" Alfred asked.

Oh, that was right, the story.

"Nyet," Ivan said, pulling out a sad frown. "I had written to my older sister, but she has yet to return word. But it's alright, Alfred, I have a friend who helped me escape. I'm sure he'll help the two of them as well."

Katyusha and Natalia had no intentions on leaving the motherland. Russia had no intentions on inviting them over. The government gave them money for Ivan's services and took care of them. That was all he needed to know.

"Still, it'd be nice. You, me, your sisters. We can all live in here, I'm sure of it and I'm definitely sure they'd love to see this place and feel the freedom," Alfred said as he pulled his arms out in a stretch. With a sigh he went back to eating his meal before speaking again, with food in his mouth. "Oh, I have to go in to work today. Short-staffed, vacation and such. Also, I may have to take a trip out of state."

"Why?" Ivan questioned.

"A doctor's transferring and . . . Ivan, it's Mr. Jefferson. He was the only doctor to put up with my inexperienced shit back in the day and I want to see him off."

"Da, I remember him," Ivan nodded. "It's alright if you leave for a little while, but please don't stay away for long. I get lonely without you."

"I do too, babe," Alfred said as he jumped out of his chair and wrapped his arms around Ivan's broad shoulders and leaned his cheek against his. "But thanks for understanding. I'll be back before you know it."

With a kiss on the cheek, Alfred was gone.

* * *

Alfred's absence let Ivan get caught up on his work. The list was perfect and the kidnappings were happening so close to each other that no one knew what was happening before they had all been shipped off to Russia. They needed the scientists after all and who cared what condition they were in after spending so much time in the crates as long as their brains blurted out answers to their problems.

He had ran into a problem though, one of these kidnapped scientists just so happened to be his brother-in-law, a Canadian by the name of Matthew Williams, named after Alfred's mother after she had divorced their father and taken him with her back to Canada. He didn't know how Alfred would take it after learning about his disappearance. He didn't like seeing his husband sad or upset but his job came first.

"I won't tell you anything, I won't!" Matthew shouted as they blindfolded him and shoved him off of the truck and into the crate with the rest of the scientists.

Ivan tried his best to only speak Russian and quietly at that to his men, but Matthew's ears were too good.

"Who said that?" Matthew asked, his head perking up. "I thought I heard . . . Ivan?"

_Shit_, Ivan mentally cursed. He ordered his men to hurry with the rest of the victims and tried his best to steal away but Matthew fought until he fell over and rubbed his blindfold off of him. His eyes widened and he gasped.

"You . . . You're with them? !"

Ivan sighed. There really was no other choice now was there? Walking up to the cargo and then bending down Ivan looked at Matthew without a single shred of care for his wellbeing in his gaze.

"Da," Ivan answered.

"Then you . . . you murdered Mr. Harrison and his . . . oh God, you did it!"

"Da."

"How could you? ! You said you escaped, you said—"

"Americans are easy to lie to, and apparently, so are Canadians," Ivan said before letting out a sigh and rubbing his jaw. "But I have slight problem, Matthew. Once you are gone your brother will worry and possibly cry."

"He'll find me, I know it!" Matthew spat, hate building up in his gaze for his brother-in-law.

"Nyet, I don't want him to," Ivan said and then stood himself up, looking down at the struggling blond. "So it means I will just have to deal with a mourning Alfred, instead of a worried one. At least a mourning Alfred will stay put."

Matthew's eyes widened as he watched Ivan pull out a gun.

* * *

Alfred sat at the café drumming his table and watching his coffee ripple by the vibrations he made. It was all he could do to pass his time and to keep himself in check. He didn't even look at the man sitting a few tables behind him as he scooted his chair out and left. He didn't even look at him as he waddled over to his car with his chaperone opening the door for him to enter. He didn't even look at the car drive away in easy speed nor even when the loud cracking boom erupted into the air and blew the car to smithereens.

But when he heard it . . . the screaming, Alfred turned. He turned and watched as everyone around ran away screaming for police. He watched in so much satisfaction as the man—his target—managed to survive and instead roll around with the flames eating him alive, tearing off his hanging arm and burning his eye sockets to ash. The grotesque scene thrilled Alfred and his eyes glew in satisfaction.

Yet it wasn't enough. Pulling his gun out of his jacket Alfred shot the man dead in the head. He watched as brains flew out of his skull and caught fire, shriveling up quite quick. With another shot the bullet ripped through the man's throat. Alfred knew he was dead but he wasn't falling fast enough. He blew out his knee just to get him to fall down and let the blood leak out of him.

Still, Alfred wasn't satisfied.

* * *

"What the bloody hell were you thinking? !" Arthur shouted though Alfred had already zoned him out minutes before. "You could have been seen! What if someone took a picture of you! ? What if they find you? ! What about your home? What about Ivan? !"

Alfred's eyes narrowed at the mention of his husband before he grit his teeth and shook his fists.

"They fucking killed Mattie, Arthur!" Alfred shouted. "This isn't just a mission anymore, Arthur, this is personal. Fuck, they may already know about me. Let them come! I'll take every fucking one of them on! I'll protect Ivan all by myself, you'll see. I swear, I swear I'll find the exact man who did this to him and I will make him suffer."

He growled out the threat and Arthur wondered if he should worry for the poor bastard.

* * *

A closed casket, just how Ivan wanted it. After all, he had shot the Canadian through both eyes and he doubted Alfred would want to see that. But still Alfred wailed as he clung onto the coffin and refused to let go even knowing it had to be lowered into the ground.

"No!" Alfred cried out. "Don't let them take Mattie, Ivan! He's just sleeping. Don't let them bury him!"

Everyone was hurt by Alfred's cries for his brother. Ivan didn't want to prolong funeral any more than necessary so he was forced to picking his husband up by the waist and lifting him away.

"No! NO!" Alfred cried out, struggling in Ivan's grasp and reaching out to grab for the coffin. "Stop it! Let me go!"

The lowering was fought like this. Alfred still refused to stop crying for release as his brother was laid in the dirt. Even the drive home was difficult and when they reached their house and Ivan shoved Alfred inside the boy, thirteen years his junior, turned and slapped him hard across the face. It stung, it really did, which surprised Ivan to no end since he prided himself with tough skin, but the look in Alfred's eyes was unbearable.

To prevent Alfred from striking him again Ivan wrapped his arms around his struggling body and just held him in his embrace as he wailed and cried out the unfairness of life and how he had wished it had been him instead of his brother.

"Nyet," Ivan said as he took Alfred's face into his hands to make the crying boy look up at him. "I would rather you have lived. I would rather you."

"You bastard!" Alfred cried out as he weakly struck against Ivan's coated chest. "You didn't know M-Mattie like I did. He was such a gentle soul . . . he . . . he deserved to live. It should have been me. I deserved to die!"

"It is you who is my husband, not him," Ivan said as he shook Alfred's head to settle his eyes on him only. His thumbs did their best to wipe away those tears but they kept falling and wouldn't stop—just as he suspected, but in time he'd get over it. "Of course I care for you more, but he was your brother and I know you miss him very much. I too have sisters that are not here with me . . ."

Ivan played on the sad stories of siblings never present which caused Alfred to lean into him. He stopped struggling and instead just cried and hugged him close. The wails were horrible and Ivan didn't like the noise and so he leaned Alfred's head back and kissed him to muffle the cries for the dead. It worked as long as the kiss lasted and so Ivan continued to kiss him until those wails and sobs turned into groans and moans and his body trembled no more with sadness but with ecstasy as he entered him and thrust him to completion.

* * *

Ivan chuckled as he was shown the gruesome photos of the General's lovely Paris vacation. Well—if you call his car exploding and then him shot to unrecognition lovely.

"CIA?" Ivan inquired. His informer nodded.

"Da, that's what we're expecting. It was no use asking around for foreigners, the town was a hot spot for them."

"I see," Ivan said as he inhaled the sickening smoke. "I suppose they want me to find out who?"

"Da."

"How much?"

"What?"

"How much will they give me?" Ivan watched as his lead cocked his head at him. In the beginning Ivan had been happy to do anything for Mother Russia no matter the job, no matter the pay—if there was any. Most of the time Ivan had been willing to offer his services if only to offer his dedication, but now he was demanded and he had every right to be. He was the best agent in United States and he wanted some dedication of his own for his efforts, especially now that he had someone to support.

"They never said," the man said. "But they are angry, Ivan. They want this one gone. Said he's been escaping them for years; causing them trouble."

"Then they will pay me big," Ivan said with a kind and menacing smile.

"They might want you back in Europe." Ivan frowned. If the suspect was possibly American then why not find him while he was still in the country? It was rather pointless returning to Europe. Besides, he couldn't just leave his husband.

"For how long?" Ivan inquired.

"As long as they say," the man stated though the dark look Ivan gave him frightened him.

With a sigh, Ivan realized what he had to do. He'd leave, yes, but in order to draw this assassin out then he'd draw himself out. He'd let slip a few valuable information being that he, a Russian hit man from the KGB, was the one responsible for the scientists' kidnaping. If the higher ups knew then they'd no doubt send the best for him which he assumed was this perpetrator causing the Kremlin so much grief.

* * *

"Alfred, Alfred. My love, wake up," Ivan cooed as he kissed the bare neck of his husband lying next to him. Alfred stirred but he looked as if he simply refused to get up. So Ivan leaned down close to his ear and said, "You slept through the alarm clock two times already."

Ivan should have been quicker. He should have moved his head away in time but he didn't and instead Alfred's skull collided with his chin as it shot up and rattled his teeth inside his mouth.

"Why didn't you tell me? !" Alfred shouted as he jumped out of bed and quickly gathered up what clean clothing he could grab and run into the bathroom for another one-minute-shower.

"I was joking," Ivan called out and when Alfred came out of the bathroom a minute later the taller husband was met with a deadly glare.

"That's not even funny, Ivan," Alfred said before rubbing his eyes. He flicked his wrist, looking at the time on his beautiful watch. "Shiiiiit, it's too early for jokes."

Ivan watched in amusement as Alfred's shoulders slumped and he sludged back to bed, taking the covers and curling them around himself like a cocoon. With a roll of his eyes Ivan sighed. Reaching out and shaking the blonde's shoulder Ivan said, "Alfred, I have something important to tell you."

"What?" Alfred asked, opening one annoyed eye up at his husband.

"I am leaving soon," Ivan said. That got Alfred's attention. He opened both eyes and rolled onto his back to stare up at his husband like some toddler staring up at their parent.

"When?" Alfred asked.

"This evening, before you get off work," Ivan informed with a sad smile. "I'll only be away for a little while. The company is sending me overseas to talk to a representative. I shouldn't be gone more than a week."

"So . . . you're leaving too . . ." Ivan saw Alfred's depression and he didn't like it. Taking both his hands in his, Ivan kissed the knuckles.

"I will be back, I promise," Ivan swore. There was no way in hell he'd let this CIA agent get the best of him, after all, he had a husband to return to.

"Cross your heart and hope to die?" Alfred asked as he crossed his own heart.

"Da," Ivan said with an endearing smile as he crossed his heart and then leaned down, kissing his lover on the forehead. "You'll see me again before you know it."

* * *

Alfred nearly dropped the phone as Arthur's voice came in clear.

"We got him, Alfred. We got the son of a bitch who killed Matthew," Arthur informed.

Wetting dry lips with a quick swipe of his tongue Alfred swallowed hard. He could sense his pupils dilating, he could heart his heartbeat pound in his ears and he could feel the cold sweat washing over him. He hadn't been this nervous or anxious about anything or anyone in a long time.

"You did? You're sure?"

"He slipped up," Arthur informed. "He left us one too many bread crumbs. Now he's hiding out in Spain."

"Spain, hm? Not that far," Alfred said and took out the number for the airport to book his latest flight.

"Alfred. Be careful, it may be a trap," Arthur warned. "We've been after him for a while and now that he's suddenly revealed himself. It's unnerving."

"Don't worry about it," Alfred said. "You know me. I can handle it."

"I have no doubt in your capabilities, lad," Arthur replied. But the silence afterwards signaled his dread.

"Hey, you don't even need to give me a raise for this one. This one's on me," Alfred said as he hung up the phone and then began dialing the airport.

* * *

Ivan might as well enjoy the beaches on the resort. Alfred always had wanted him to get a tan anyways. So there he lay, trying his hardest to get a tan and only coming up with burns. It annoyed him to no end. When a couple passed by him he frowned. They had been holding hands and shared a few quick pecks as they walked along the beach.

With a sigh Ivan realized he and Alfred had yet to go to the beaches. Their honeymoon had been spent up in a ski resort per Alfred and of course his request, the younger opting for the snow since Ivan was more comfortable with it. Didn't matter, if Alfred wanted the beaches then Ivan would give it to him.

Being a spy would not keep him from treating his husband like the king of the world. He didn't know when he had started feeling that way but Ivan was certain it was around the time he had said, "I do," to Alfred. There wasn't anything fake about it. Ivan swore it.

He was upset that he had to spend more time away from his husband, but if he figured it correctly, after taking out this certain CIA agent then the motherland would no doubt reward him high and give him a vacation so to speak. In that vacation he planned on taking Alfred to the beaches.

After having thought he's tortured himself long enough in the sun. Ivan stood up and made his way back to his room. He smiled at the image of his door wide open. Someone had been here and hadn't been too careful to cover his tracks. But Ivan knew it was all fun and games so he leisurely entered and went through his hotel room as if nothing was amiss.

"You think I can't feel your eyes on me?" Ivan sing-songed as he pieced together his Dragunov right in front of his 12th floor window. "I'm standing right in front of the window. You have a good shot."

Just as Ivan expected; this agent wanted to get a good look at his face before making the kill. Well, since that were the case then Ivan freely sat on his bed and continued assembling his rifle together with his back to the window. He knew the second he turned he'd be shot in the head, or the heart, which ever killed faster but Ivan now knew his opponent's kinks and so he laid his rifle down on is bed and got up.

"Let's see where you are," Ivan sung as he walked out of the window's view. He went toward the phone to ring in some back-up just in case but the moment he reached for the receiver the wire was shot out of it. Raising a brow Ivan looked at the hole shot through the wall. The light of the day peeked through and was now illuminating a circular radius near the phone. "Oh, wouldn't want me to do that, da?"

Ivan felt his heart race. It was exciting. The last time he had a scuffle with another agent of worthy note he'd have to admit it was a British man. So prim and proper and so very good at the knife fights—but Ivan was better.

With a sigh, Ivan turned back around. "Fine, you want me where you can see me."

Returning to the bed Ivan sat down. His back facing the window Ivan drummed his fingers on his thigh. Looking over at his rifle he knew he'd have to be quick, but of course he needed to know where to aim first. So Ivan took out a slim device. Naturally it was a simple mirror but with the use of his scope he'd be able to get a glance at where this special one was.

Ivan's room faced the ocean and so he knew that the agent couldn't be high upon another building . . . so where . . . ah, there he was. Out in the distance a yacht drifted along the lazy blue ocean waters. Ivan had seen it before when on the beach but paid it no mind with all of the dancing girls on board. But now that he actually got a good look at it he noticed the skimpily clad girls were no longer on board. They must have gotten off a while ago for now there was a lone figure, his own rifle propped up on a stand by what Ivan could tell. This agent had good eyesight and accuracy if he was shooting at him from all the way over there.

Impressed, Ivan decided he'd had his fun. He knew his location and Ivan was betting he had a quicker trigger finger. So, Ivan took up his rifle and quickly turned around, his scope positioned right and now he got a good look at the agent.

Ivan's chest clenched and his eyes widened double in size. His fingers locked along with the rest of his joints as his head shot up to stare at the boat with the sole figure on it with his own eyes.

Alfred? !

Ivan watched a similar reaction from the agent and before he knew it the man had dunked back into the boat's hull. No. He wasn't seeing things was he? Well he probably was. He had been daydreaming about his husband earlier so it was understandable but through the scope . . . the CIA agent looked SO much like Alfred and he has seen that surprised motion on him as well as he backed up.

He hadn't shot him, had he? Ivan had been a sitting duck when he froze like that. Maybe it was . . . no, NO! Ivan was just homesick—or husband-sick. He needed to see him again, that was all.

* * *

The entire flight back Ivan hadn't settled a bit. His nails practically scratched at the armrests of the seat he had been assigned to and when he got into his car he drove home ignoring every traffic law and speed limit announced. Luckily for him he hadn't gotten pulled over because he honestly didn't feel like hiding a dead cop's body at the moment.

Jumping out of his car Ivan left the keys in the ignition and the engine still running. The only thing he held close now was his briefcase. His guns were inside and he wasn't planning on parting with it any time soon.

What if Alfred was the CIA agent? Would Ivan kill him? Would he kill Ivan? He didn't want to think about any of those things, but the paranoia had already taken root and when he entered the door there was no call out to his husband. No light was on and the home looked daunting, like he was walking into the lair of a webbed spider.

His own home, his coffin. How funny.

"Alfred?" Ivan called out. "I am home, my love."

Nothing, there was nothing. Perhaps Alfred was still at work. This late? No, he'd have to be home if he wasn't out with his friends.

Perhaps he _was_ still at "work." No! Ivan swore he wouldn't think like that. Not until he had a chance to talk to Alfred, sweet innocent Alfred . . . who was eating hamburgers in the candlelight.

There he was, with his back turned to him, stuffing his face. He usually watched the television when munching alone if not turn on the lights, but only the single candle lit the room and Ivan had half a mind to turn the switch on, but he decided against and decided to push his paranoia away. Dropping his briefcase Ivan crept up behind Alfred and then lunged at him, wrapping his arms around his torso and squeezing tightly.

The twenty-five year old let out a squeak before turning around and offering his husband a big food-filled smile. He tried talking but Ivan shushed him with his fingers and made himself comfortable in the chair next to him. Lovely, Ivan wiped the crumbs and stains of ketchup and mustard off of Alfred's cheeks and just stared at him.

This was his Alfred. This was his husband; a practicing nurse who had to call Ivan in from the basement just to squash a spider the size of his pinky nail. He wasn't an agent, just didn't fit the part. He had been seeing things and he now realized that it was his heart trying to tell him to take Alfred to the beach.

"How would you like to take a trip to the beach one day?" Ivan asked as he watched his husband eat. He caught the sparkle in his eyes and the way he smiled just melted his heart. He'd grown too soft. He knew it, but the USSR didn't need to know it. He'd be damned if they ever tried erasing Alfred just to make him into a colder agent. He did his job. He didn't ask too many questions. What more could they ask of their perfect little KGB hit man?

"I would!" Alfred gasped after swallowing his food. "But I thought you didn't like the beaches. You know—the sun and stuff."

"The boss sent me to Spain and I saw them. They were nice, but do you know what they were missing?" Ivan leaned in close to his blond husband who was still munching the rest of his food down. Taking a hold of his chin Ivan pressed his lips to Alfred's and snaked his tongue around passing the food into his own mouth and swallowing before kissing Alfred a deep kiss of his own—Alfred always had a kink for food sharing via the mouth and Ivan would down a thousand hamburgers if just to press his tongue into his husband's mouth. "You," Ivan whispered against tanned lips before pulling back. "Name your beach, Alfred, and we'll go."

Alfred blushed and slinked away. His hand went down to touch the wristwatch that he was still wearing. He really liked his anniversary present. Ivan watched his fingers flick open the watch to peer at the picture inside before shutting it and then opening it and repeating the process.

"Ivan, where do you get all these finances? The bills are coming up soon and I . . . I just don't know," Alfred bashfully said.

"I got a bonus after my trip. I represented my company well that the boss paid out of pocket a few extra thousand, enough for some plane trip tickets and rooms on a beach—wherever you like," Ivan pressed again. He really needed to escape with Alfred. He had too much on his mind as is.

"I kinda . . . always wanted to go . . . to Hawaii," Alfred admitted with a sweet smile as Ivan looked at him.

"Then Hawaii it is," Ivan stated.

"When do you wanna leave?"

"How about tonight?"

"Tonight? But I had plans," Alfred said with a puffed up frown. Ivan chuckled and pinched the younger's cheek making Alfred groan in embarrassment.

"What plans?" Ivan asked. "Going out with Kiku and—! ?"

Ivan's lips hung open and his eyes widened. He could feel his throat swelling and it wasn't long before he realized why. Looking at Alfred and then down at the plate with just one more hamburger Ivan smelt it—he could smell the peanut oil Alfred had cooked it in. Stumbling out of his chair Ivan backed away.

"Ivan?" Alfred asked, the look in his eyes was concern and fear.

Ivan shook his head before coughing and trying his best to intake any breath but nothing helped, he couldn't breathe. Leaning from wall to wall Ivan made his way to the staircase where he heard his husband crying out to him. Crawling up the stairs Ivan managed to make it to their room where he fell against the side of the bed and dragged his choking form toward the bedside table where he kept his medicine. Pulling out the box Ivan slammed it to the ground and grabbed at the closest syringe there was scattered around.

"Ivan!" Alfred gasped as he ran into the room and leaned down, touching his husband's shoulders. "Oh god, let me help!"

Ivan gasped as Alfred took the needle out of his hands but instead of him rolling up his sleeve to inject it into his arm Alfred stood up and brushed Ivan's bangs off of his forehead and then placed a cold cylinder on it. Ivan's eyes widened as he watched his sweet, young, innocent husband press the barrel of a gun down upon his head.

"I'll make it all better." Just like that Ivan watched Alfred's eyes transform from growing concern to deepening cold hatred. He'd never seen that look in his eyes and Ivan's heart nearly stopped.

But he had to do something. He couldn't breathe. So he reached up and punched Alfred in the throat, causing him to drop the syringe and double back, holding his throat and gasping. Ivan had just struck Alfred. He'd never ever in his life thought he'd even raise a hand to Alfred. But then again, he never thought Alfred would be a CIA agent.

Tumbling the syringe in his fingers Ivan finally managed to get a good hold on it before jamming it down into his leg. The effects didn't take long to fight off his allergic reaction. Finally getting a chance to breathe Ivan turned and watched as Alfred recovered and held his gun at him with deadly ease and accuracy.

"So it was you . . . fucking Commie!" Alfred spat as his bright topaz eyes darkened into a dangerous sapphire.

"I'm just as surprised as you, my love," Ivan said as he was allowed to rise back to full stature and stare the agent down. "Nursing not pay as well anymore? And here I thought you loved your job."

"Can't fucking stand it," Alfred said as the two began pacing back and forth cautiously. "Patients get my blood boiling like nothing else, but General Washington told me I needed some form of practice if I should ever get hurt on the job. Tch, the old man just couldn't understand that nothing set me right like serving ole Uncle Sam and crushing Soviet competition."

"The feeling is mutual," Ivan said with a chuckle.

"Yeah?" Alfred asked, raising a thin brow. "Then why are you living here in America? I'd fucking hang myself if I was assigned to your godforsaken country to work undercover."

"You make it all the more bearable," Ivan replied and saw the shock in Alfred's eyes. He had said it to him before, when they weren't enemies so why was he so surprised now? It didn't matter, the slip up gave Ivan the seconds he needed to bound out of the bedroom when Alfred opened fired, hitting the walls and one bullet managing to hit Ivan's coat.

Ivan barrel rolled down the stairs once he heard Alfred rush out with his guns blazing. The moment he was at the foot of the staircase Ivan lunged back into the dining room where his briefcase was. He was quick to unlock it and pull out a gun, hiding himself behind the dining room corner.

"Baby~" came Alfred's sing-song voice. "Did you go back into the dining room for those peanut-y burgers or to grab your guns?"

Ivan turned from the corner and aimed at his husband. Mother Russia came first. He fired and Ivan watched Alfred's eyes widen as he dunked quickly and threw himself against the table, kicking it up and blocking his frame. He was good. Ivan was very impressed but sickened all at once.

He'd been married to a fucking capitalist CIA agent. How could he have not found that out? He did extensive research. He guessed the family military lineage under Alfred's belt should have pressed him to search deeper.

Ivan's eyes widened as he heard the crack of the table wood. Alfred had punched a hole through it to thrust his gun out to shoot at him. When had his little boy ever had this much strength? Sure he was able to handle his frame unlike Ivan's other lovers but did that really make Ivan think the boy was super strong? To an extent, yes, but not like this. Now that he thought about it; Alfred jumping from the top of the staircase, dodging his affections quickly with swift turns and dunks, those moves were tell-tale signs of an experienced soldier. Ivan should have let it click but he was so . . . so . . . love-struck that he was just too blind!

The others were right. He'd gone soft, and now it just might get him killed.

Ivan gasped as his gun was shot out of his hand. Alfred had clipped his thumb and nearly blew off his knuckle. Mentally cursing he was glad that Alfred used his fire sparingly so there was no noise to disrupt his thoughts.

"Oh, looks like someone dropped their gun," Alfred said with a chuckle as he popped his head out from behind the table and stood up. He went over toward the weapon and then kicked it out of the way and anyone's reach. After the silence carried on Alfred pressed himself against the dining room corner where he knew Ivan was waiting. "You're still alive, right?"

After the sound of a gasp Alfred smirked. Rolling his way around the corner Alfred turned his gun on the KGB agent but he hadn't been expecting an elbow to his mouth and then a knee to his gut. Coughing out a grunt Alfred barely had time to catch the kick to the ribcage. When he did he smirked. His cold blue eyes turned toward his husband whose eyes narrowed back.

"Don't take me for some novice!" Alfred spat and then took hold of Ivan's leg and tossed his entire frame into the couch in the living room. The furniture tipped and knocked over the stand holding the television up, the device toppled and crumbled into ruin, but that was the least of Alfred's worries.

"Ah, my love, I must ask . . ." Alfred brought his fists up as he watched Ivan lean up on the couch, shaking his head from the dizziness and looking at him with a strange smile. "How long have you been at this?"

"Since thirteen, baby," Alfred replied. Wouldn't hurt. It's not like Ivan would live long enough to tell the USSR about America's most badass CIA agent. "Like my skills?"

Ivan rose a brow and placed his chin on his fist. "Slightly impressed."

"Slightly?" Alfred asked with a chuckle before his eyes darkened. "You want better, you son of a bitch? I'll give you something!"

Alfred ran at him and then jumped, flipping over the couch later he crouched low and giving a kick to the larger man who caught his foot this time. Just like Alfred had done to Ivan, the Russian tossed the American, but with such a force his body cracked the plaster on the walls and nearly broke through it. Alfred groaned at the toss. He'd never fought someone with Ivan's strength. He knew his husband had been strong before but when using his strength for something like this . . . it was on a whole other level.

Alfred gasped as Ivan pressed down upon him, bringing his fist down, not caring if Alfred's glasses sliced against his face. Ivan punched hard and the glasses broke indefinitely, the glass cutting into Alfred's left cheek before the frame of the bent spectacles fell off. But just as Ivan punched so did Alfred, he clipped Ivan right under the jaw and knocked him off of him.

This time Alfred was atop the Russian. He punched and punched at him until he saw the purple swell on his left eye and broke that nose that he had loved—especially when it nuzzled down the inside of his thighs when . . .

"How could I have not known? !" Alfred shouted as he struck out again, but Ivan caught his fist and tossed him off. "All you Ruskies are the same! Fucking commies!" Alfred handled his landing well and jumped right back at the Russian, tackling him into the study where papers flew up, the desk broke both their backs, and the bookshelves spewed forth all of their books as bodies rammed against each of the tall shelves and smashed the reading articles. "You told me about your escape! About your sisters! We were trying to get them here!"

"Nyet, just you, Fredka," Ivan replied with that mocking smile. "Americans; so gullible. Especially their best agents."

"Shut the fuck up!" Alfred spat as he clipped Ivan again and this time the tall Russia's girth crashed right through the study's glass door. The little shards cut him up good and Alfred found himself smiling at his husband's state.

"My sisters would never be caught dead here!" Ivan bellowed as he caught Alfred's arm and twisted it until he heard a crack. Alfred cried out but was quick to swing his other arm and jam his elbow into Ivan's sternum and force him back to give him space to cradle his twisted wrist. "This is nothing but a damned country destined to fall waste to my country's superior missiles."

"Well, I hope you're still here when that happens, hon!" Alfred spat as he turned and then took up the desk lamp and swung it at Ivan. Ivan turned and let it hit his side. He couldn't move quick enough with his vision spinning but once it was cleared and steadied Ivan pressed close to Alfred again. He watched in glee as his little husband threw his body weight against the other door and knocked it off its hinge and ran off before its frame hit the wooden floor and shattered the glass window.

"Why are you running, Alfred?" Ivan called out as he rubbed his cut nostrils and lips with the tattered sleeve of his coat. "Can't spouses settle this dispute through talking? At least mature couples should be able to."

"Mature?" Ivan heard Alfred call out. He was in the kitchen. Ivan knew he shouldn't go there but he had to confront him if he was to dispose of him. Upon entering Ivan was met with a kick to the shoulder, slamming his body against the wall and colliding his skull against the doorframe. He saw stars until the white blinded him and he groaned in pain.

Alfred had stabbed him, right under the ribcage. Ivan was quick to pull away from him before he could plunge the knife any deeper. He caught Alfred by his throat and slammed him against the kitchen island, knocking pans and various other objects off as Alfred kicked and scooted his way out of Ivan's hold.

Reaching over Alfred grabbed a hold on the nearby skillet and smashed it against Ivan's head. Ivan groaned and tried his best to ignore the pain burning his skull or the blood dripping down to sting his eye closed. When Alfred smashed it against his head again Ivan pressed forward and made gravity topple the both of them over and off the counter.

Ivan fell on top of Alfred who cried out from the weight pressing on top of him. When Ivan felt Alfred push him off the Russian was too dazed to act as quickly as he wanted. He looked up, watching Alfred limp over back into the dining room, no doubt looking for his or Ivan's dropped gun. He could see his love gritting his teeth and trying to hold up his wounded body the best he could but those tears were the most noticeable on his normally happy and bright face.

"You killed Mattie, you bastard!" Alfred cried out through pained pants. "I'll blow your brains out—just like you did to him!"

Ivan couldn't let him get to those guns. Inhaling a pained breath Ivan brought himself up and then pulled out his little surprise hidden in his boot. It was a single bullet gun but it was fine, even in his state he wouldn't miss. He shot Alfred, hit him good and made him topple over. He didn't think he killed him by the sounds of his moaning groans but Ivan had stopped him for now.

Dragging himself over to his husband's fallen frame he watched the CIA agent turn up at him with hate-filled eyes—something he's never quite liked since he began looking at him like that.

"I can't believe this!" Alfred spat. "I've served my country, my ancestors have served this country and when I decide to leave protocol behind and follow my heart I find it fucking lied to me! A Russian? Why not? He's attractive, easy to talk to, and wants to start anew, but, no, he's a fucking . . . KGB . . . fuck! I fucked a KBG!"

The horror in Alfred's eyes as if he were the real traitor to his country. Ivan chuckled and let that self-satisfied smirk cross his lips. "Nyet, a KGB _fucked_ you."

Ivan watched Alfred's bottom lip tremble before his eyes narrowed and he lunged at Ivan's legs to topple him over. He left behind a decent-sized puddle of blood; Ivan must have shot him deep. When Ivan moved out of the way he kicked Alfred down, a good four times before the boy was groaning and near to tears.

"Mattie . . ." Ivan heard Alfred sniff. "You killed him!"

"Da," Ivan said as he bent down and pulled at Alfred's hair, lifting him up to eye level. "But if it makes you feel any better I did it to save our marriage."

"Save our marriage? !" Alfred gasped before reaching up and pulling Ivan's iron grip away along with a few chunks of his hair.

"Da," Russia said with a frown as he watched in amusement as Alfred attempted to crawl away. He smirked seeing the gunshot. It was right below the American's right shoulder blade. Might have pierced a lung, but from Alfred's shouting Ivan doubted it. "He would have told you when you came to his rescue like he said you would . . . hm, I guess that is what he meant by you'll come and find him."

Ivan could see Alfred's hands balling into fists as he pushed himself up and leaned himself against the wall, looking at him with hard eyes.

"I guess it's too late for that, da?" Ivan came down upon Alfred and wrapped his hands around his throat but the boy reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small knife, cutting into Ivan's wrist.

Ivan darted back with a gasp and held onto his bleeding wound. He was quick to rip a piece of cloth off his coat to staunch the bleeding the best he could. Alfred had cut too close for comfort. After he had attended to his wound Ivan turned to see Alfred had run off again.

Turning he saw him heading for the door. He couldn't have that. So he rushed at him and tackled him from behind. Alfred's face met the hardwood floor of the foyer as he struggled to get Ivan off.

"Six years! Six fucking years I loved you!" Alfred shouted. "You're going to kill me? !" Alfred turned in Ivan's grasp and stared him down, daring him. "Do it and let's see how fucking sick you Russians are!"

Ivan frowned. He loved Alfred he really did. But it was more along the lines of he loved Alfred F. Braginski, loving husband, not Alfred F. Jones, deadly CIA agent.

"I do love you, Alfred. Know this—remember it," Ivan said as he wrapped his hands around Alfred's throat and began pressing. Leaning down Ivan pressed a kiss to Alfred's swollen eye and then gripped tighter on his throat.

"Gah!" Alfred gasped before bringing his knee up into Ivan's groin.

Biting his cry of pain Ivan doubled over. He had never EVER been hit there before. He's been touched, licked, and squeezed but never had anyone ever attempted to harm his precious manhood. He heard Alfred scuffle away but he could care less since he felt the need to puke.

"Alfred!" Ivan growled when the pain in his stomach settled and now he let his adrenaline kick in once again. Pushing himself up Ivan ran after Alfred. He found him back in the dining room, near the corner where the living room was. He was searching for his gun. Just as Ivan dove at him he realized he had been a little too late and that Alfred had found his gun.

The stinging pain in his abdomen was felt for a little while but he still managed to fall onto Alfred and slide the both of them into the living room. He heard the heavy clunk of the gun falling out of Alfred's hand and hitting the floor below. Leaning back Ivan slammed his body back down on Alfred who groaned out from his wound not yet mentally blocked from pain.

"I regret everything!" Alfred cried out through blinking eyes as they filled with tears while he crawled out from under Ivan and pulled himself up against the fireplace. He tore the watch from his wrist and tossed it to the ground, stomping on it until it was broken—until the picture of their wedding was unrecognizable. After that he pulled at his left handed finger, struggling to get the golden wedding band off before slamming it down next to the dismembered watch. "I regret practicing for nursing, I regret being assigned to you, I regret falling in love with you, I regret marrying you! All of it!"

Ivan stood up himself, watching as Alfred's wedding band rolled from where it was tossed and hit his shoe. Leaning down he took it up and looked at it sadly. With a frown he said, "I don't regret anything."

Alfred's eyes widened in shock and confusion before those tears grew heavier. It was all true, every word that Ivan said, even if Alfred didn't believe him.

"These past six years were the happiest I've ever been in my life," Ivan confessed all over again. "If I could have my way I'd take you back to Russia with me, but you're happy here and if you're happy then I was happy as well. Shipping Management; honestly, Alfred, how dense could you be? I could never hope to afford this place or these expenses for you." Ivan motioned sadly to the crushed watch. "But I wanted you to have everything and so I didn't ask questions and Mother Russia always pays good."

"I don't want your damn commie money!" Alfred spat as he jumped forward and grabbed Ivan's coat, pressing him against the wall and slamming him back again. "I want you!"

With a forceful grip, Alfred dragged Ivan down by the hair. Their lips met in a clash of teeth and tongue and soon the aches of their bodies were remembered and the tingling sensation shook through the both of them. Ivan didn't waste long in returning the kiss with vigor and now he bit Alfred's lip, pulling and puncturing.

Alfred gasped from the bite and shoved Ivan off of him. The Russian slammed against the floor and it wasn't long before Alfred had fallen on top of him. Ivan had about turned on him and let his elbow connect with the blonde's throat, but Alfred wasn't out for death—blood, maybe, but not death. With lips parted and tongue out, Alfred pressed their mouths together. Wet and hot, saliva dripping down both their chins before they pulled away and Ivan reached up to tear Alfred's shirt from his torso.

He adored Alfred's smaller frame and the muscles racked up along it. But even so, there just wasn't enough bruises. Especially none made with his mouth and teeth. So Ivan leaned forward and bit Alfred's shoulder until he bled.

He received a good whack to the ear and his eardrum rung for a little while setting his body in a daze as he shook his head. Alfred's strikes were rough, but so were Ivan's. For the strike Ivan reached up, pulling Alfred's hair and holding until he flipped them, pressing his husband into the debris ridden ground. His other hand reached up and pressed his fingers harshly underneath Alfred's jaw. He could hear his groans but he kept those pearly white teeth together while he ground their hips together sensually.

Leaning down again Ivan placed an openmouthed kiss on Alfred's neck. He smirked against his skin as he felt the boy tense, as if waiting for a bite, but he didn't, instead he teased him with his tongue while the hand holding onto those golden locks let go and traveled down to his pants where he frowned when meeting the feel of a belt—he had told his husband time and time again to stop wearing them or at least get pants that snug his hips, after all, the leather straps were a hassle to get off, especially that buckle.

When Ivan finally managed to unbuckle the confounded thing Alfred rose his knee. The Russian flinched and quickly rolled his hips off of him for fear of another strike to the groin. Apparently this had all been a part of Alfred's plan to get the larger male off of him. Hooking a leg around Ivan's waist was enough of a security for Alfred to push himself on top again, straddling his KGB husband.

Reaching down Alfred pulled at the scarf and to Ivan's horror he ripped it slightly in his plight to choke it off of his neck. That upset Ivan so much he leaned up, punching Alfred right in the jaw. Wincing at the action, Alfred about fell off of his lap but Ivan caught hold of his arm before he met the ground and then took hold of the scarf and wrapped it around Alfred's bare neck and pulled tightly. The blond let out a choking cough as Ivan once again pushed his back to the floor.

Lifting his hips up, Ivan set to work in pulling off Alfred's belt. Taking hold of the buckle Ivan violently ripped it from the belt loops in Alfred's jeans. He slapped the belt to the ground, the sound of its crack echoed throughout the otherwise quiet home. Alfred didn't jump. He didn't even lift a finger as the sound pickled his skin. No, he just stared up at Ivan with dark blue eyes. Eyes demanded him to do something soon or else he would.

Ivan shivered at the thought of Alfred turning into a predator. He could see it in him now, but he didn't have any fear. Not of him at least.

Pressing down again Ivan listened to him groan and he could see by the look on his face that he was trying to conceal a pained expression. Ivan just chuckled and leaned down, kissing his chin. "You in pain, little agent?"

"Don't feel a thing," Alfred lied, looking up at his husband who chuckled again before slamming his shoulders down again and pulling at the jeans on Alfred's waist. That just wouldn't do though because Alfred wrapped his deliciously strong thighs around Ivan's waist and refused to let go even as Ivan pushed the jeans and briefs down Alfred's ass.

"Let go," Ivan ordered. He held in a groan at the strain of his own need against the confines of his slacks. With Alfred wrapped so close he knew he could feel it even against the jean material, but Alfred would not let loose. With a frustrated growl Ivan reached down and once again pulled Alfred's hair. "How else am I supposed to give you what you want!"

"What do you think I want?" Alfred asked with as much venom as Ivan's growl. Honestly, he'd been married for six years to this man. Ivan thought he knew everything about him, his favorite colors, his favorite movies, his favorite ice cream, even his personality. Whether in public or private Alfred had always been so bright, a smile always on his lips. But now, Alfred growled at him, snarled even. His teeth borne like a wild animal, his eyes dark and threatening, his brow down. There were no smiles, just frowns. "I want you to fucking die!"

Ivan saw Alfred pushing back from the floor, springing his arms like a coil before latching up onto him, arms deathly tight around his neck just as soon as Ivan's scarf fell from Alfred's neck. He knew Alfred expected him to come toppling over him in loss of balance so he could flip them, but Ivan was tired of rolling and so instead he hung onto the CIA agent's hips and leant back on his knees. Now he had the chance to slip his jeans off of him much to Alfred's chagrin.

The blond frowned before struggling against Ivan's attempt to undress him. So he rolled his hips against Ivan's hard member. He grinned as the Russian stopped and moaned.

"Heard that," Alfred said as he leaned up and licked Ivan's lips before shoving his muscle inside. Ivan accepted the intrusion without permission and rewarded Alfred with a long suck for his disobedience. Pulling his head back Ivan tried to take control of the kiss but every time he leaned back in, Alfred's tongue would be waiting to shove back inside, past his lips, and behind his teeth. Ivan nearly choked on it. He was tempted to bite the rude thing, but as long as Alfred was preoccupied with dominating his mouth then he wouldn't mind his hands reaching down and kneading his ass. Taking one cheek in both palms and squeezing before rubbing and rolling.

Alfred leaned his head back, pulling his lips away from Ivan and let out a long, "aaaah~" Ivan grinned and then rubbed his fingers between the crevice toward the place he knew so well. Rubbing Alfred's entrance not only excited Alfred but himself as well. His dick strained and he could feel it leak with want just to be inside.

But Ivan's fingers only traveled down further and gripped Alfred's balls from behind, squeezing them and successfully making Alfred jump. This gave him the opportunity to throw him off of him the second his thighs loosened for a fraction. Gripping onto both pant legs Ivan tossed the damned thing off along with Alfred's briefs to see that beautiful cock of his standing at full attention, red and dripping itself.

"You fucking traitor," Ivan teased as he reached out to press his finger up the side of Alfred's shaft and sweep up the line of precum running down it before pulling back and sticking his finger with the white substance in his mouth. "Getting aroused by the enemy. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Instead of getting that flustered anger from his lover, Ivan watched Alfred slowly blink his eyes and smirk, bringing his arms back under his head and giving Ivan a good view of those delectable triceps as he winked, motioning down toward Ivan's own bulge. "Well, then we're comrades."

Ivan chuckled, his fists balling and shaking. "I'm going to fuck you through this floor."

Alfred rose a seductive brow and Ivan saw that as an invitation to come closer. Not that he needed one. If Alfred resisted then he'd just take him. There was no such thing as a marital rape in this day and age and Ivan would keep it that way.

Teeth clashing and lips melding, Ivan pushed his tongue inside Alfred's mouth and let the boy choke on him this time. Grinding their arousals together elicited a shrill cry from Alfred though it was drowned out by Ivan's kiss. So he pulled back as quick as possible just to hear it. To his dismay Alfred sucked his lips and what was left of the cry back into his mouth.

Whilst Ivan frowned Alfred grinned devilishly and reached around his back to take hold of his collar, pulling with sharp fingers Alfred ripped the entire shirt in two, the only things covering Ivan's upper half were the sleeves.

"Well, I'll have you know my husband bought this shirt for me on my birthday. I liked his present very much." Ivan's eyes darkened as he watched Alfred's pink tongue dart out past his lips and lick at the sweat dripping down those folds.

"Even more so than this . . . _present_?" Alfred asked as he rolled his hips up into Ivan's pelvis long and slow and with a low drawn out moan. Since when had his husband turned into such a whorish prostitute? Well, perhaps it was just because he was CIA.

Ivan closed his eyes and then pressed his fingers into his mouth to lather them. They were nowhere near close to the lubrication in their bedroom so saliva would have to do. When he popped them out of his mouth and reached down he was met by a resisting knee. Alfred was blocking him from touching his entrance. Ivan growled and narrowed his eyes at Alfred. He was done playing his stupid little games.

Wrenching his knees open with his hands, Ivan made to press his hips between Alfred's thighs, but the blonde pulled away. He almost made his entire way out from under Ivan when the Russian caught him by the ankles and dragged him back down to see an angry glare.

"Don't you fucking put those in!" Alfred spat and reached down, slapping away Ivan's hand, making his knuckles sting.

With a frustrated growl Ivan threw away any care. He unzipped his fly and pulled down his briefs to give his cock some relief, but not for long. Soon he had half of it rammed up into Alfred, the boy closing his eyes tightly before glaring up at Ivan.

"Is that all you've got? !"

Ivan gapped down at him before he narrowed his eyes and then grinned dangerously. He reached down and pulled at Alfred's ear, bringing him as close as his body could bend. "You think we've ever been rough in the bedroom these past six years? You haven't fucking _felt_ me yet!"

Alfred's head slammed back down against the cluttered floor, his back and neck arching as Ivan shoved the rest of himself inside roughly, nice and dry. "Ah! Fuck you! That isn't all of it!"

Ivan growled in frustration. Alfred was right. Looking down Ivan cursed his slacks to hell and back because of their hindrance. His testicles were still hidden within the confines of his trousers and it was painful how they rubbed against the metal of the zipper, but Ivan couldn't leave Alfred's heat. He needed this release!

Frustration needed channels and one of those channels was shoving Alfred away and off of him. The agent's back hit the side of the overturned sofa and he let out a groan as he propped himself up on elbows to watch Ivan struggle to release himself from his pants.

"Here, let me help you," Alfred said as he crawled up back towards Ivan and then rammed a splintered plank of wood into the man's thigh. Ivan gasped at the sight before Alfred sliced and then ripped the fabric along with the skin. The legs were still noticeably on, but Alfred succeeded in shedding Ivan's crotch of any more clothing so he pulled out the splinter now red with Ivan's blood and tossed it behind him.

Sitting up, Alfred scooted his knees to either side of Ivan's hips and then sat himself down. The entirety of Ivan pressed inside him and he threw his head back in a mewl. Ivan would have concerned himself with the new wound on his thigh and the hot blood running down but he couldn't think straight and all he could think about was to fuck and to fuck Alfred. Hands on his hips Ivan thrust Alfred down onto him, spearing him painfully but Alfred was just as quick to rise back up with his muscular thighs pushing him off of the floor.

Just as Ivan pulled Alfred down, quite quickly Alfred pushed back up. It was a struggle and once or twice Ivan found his pull near to useless unless Alfred bade his hips fall back. But despite that their pace bounced along and Ivan couldn't take his eyes off of his husband.

Yes Alfred's ridden him before, and he was quite good at it but this Alfred . . . oh my . . .

Ivan bit his bottom lip the way Alfred rolled his hips down onto Ivan as he slid him in at the base before rolling again and lifting himself up at a different angle, making his cock twitch as the velvet walls surrounding it shifted and twisted it. It was very suspicious. Ivan knew he had been Alfred's first, and his only? Well they had a decent sex life, yes, when they could get time for the other. Ivan had a lot of missions lately, for at least the past three years, and he hardly got to spend time with Alfred and as far as he knew—from the files on this dangerous CIA agent, Alfred had a lot of missions as well.

Ivan got lonely being away for so long, but he never sought out the comfort of another, not even his own hand. Like he had stated before, he wasn't a sexual deviant, but Alfred was. Ever since he had broken him in to the world of sex Alfred continuously tried impaling himself on him—after work, after shopping, after five rounds of sex, in the shower, in the garage, in the car, in the kitchen, while they were watching a movie. It was all Alfred. So Ivan wondered if, when he was out on his missions—oh Ivan knew he had just as many as him—if Alfred hadn't indulged himself in the act he finds so addictive with another.

"You little slut—just how many cocks besides mine have you ridden?" Ivan asked as he pulled Alfred's hips down once more and he delighted him with a twisting roll before rising back up.

"Heh, wouldn't you like to know," Alfred chuckled as he leaned his head down and took up Ivan's face in his hands to stare at him with sinful looking eyes. "Can't go spilling secrets to commies, ya know."

Though there was a tad bit of jealousy welling up in Ivan he couldn't help but think Alfred had been faithful. He had remained abstinent until their wedding night, so why not do the same in a sense for their marriage? The boy had morals, though he was a scum puppet for the corrupt government of the U.S. Alfred was still very noble and true. But the thought of him with others was Ivan's only explanation as to how good he's gotten at the act, like he had been practicing for decades. He'd never gone this far with Ivan in the bedroom but then again—neither had Ivan.

Jamming his dick in deep Ivan could feel Alfred's insides tremble. He could feel small lubricant making it easier to move. It was blood, but Alfred didn't whine about it. He heard nothing leave those peach lips besides grunts and small needy moans.

"F-Fuck!" Alfred moaned out, closing his eyes as the large member inside him rubbed his pleasure spot, making his bobbing cock twitch in glee. Rolling his hips down he stopped rising and instead ground against Ivan's hips, rubbing that hot thick rod against him just right. "Y-Yes!"

Ivan frowned. Alfred had left the pleasure of his husband for the pleasure of himself. How selfish. Well, Ivan could be just as selfish. Lifting Alfred by the thighs he pushed him off, his cock sliding out roughly and Alfred once again hit his back against the tattered floor. He groaned in pain and then in annoyance as he pushed up on his elbows, his legs still spread wide at the knees, and looked back at Ivan. He glared at him, demanding he shove his cock back inside him and give him the release he needs.

Ivan met Alfred's glare head on, not backing down the slightest for dominance and priority. Reaching down he rubbed his pulsing cock and when he squeezed the head a spurt of juices leaked from it. He caught Alfred staring, licking his lips like he wanted to taste it. Well . . . if wanted to . . .

Taking a hold of Alfred's knees he pulled him close. He smirked at Alfred smiling, as if he'd gotten his way. Foolish chick.

Alfred blinked in confusion as Ivan crawled over top of him and sat heavily on his chest, his long manhood standing proud before Alfred's face who looked at it as if he had never seen such a thing before.

"You seem to want to taste it, go ahead, I won't stop you," Ivan said as he reached down and wrapped his fingers in Alfred's hair, pulling and urging him to lean up and take him inside his mouth. The American on the other hand had different plans. He shook his head and pushed against Ivan's hip.

"I don't suck commie!" he spat. Ivan let out a disappointed sigh before tugging Alfred's head, pulling him out from underneath him and then shoving his mouth on his cock.

"You bite and I break your skinny little neck," Ivan promised as one hand remained tightly wrapped in the hair on the back of Alfred's head while the other tightened its hold on the CIA agent's neck.

It was funny how after six years of marriage Ivan had never once pressed his cock into his husband's mouth. Yes he's had plenty of blowjobs from his previous lovers looking to escape actual penetration, but Alfred never brought it up. In the same sense Ivan had never given Alfred a blowjob. He didn't know if it was an American thing or what but he honestly hadn't cared about the lack of pleasure service. Though, with the way Alfred eats an ice cream cone Ivan had been tempted to bring it up. They were still quite sexually satisfying on their own and Alfred could do one amazing handjob if Ivan felt the wet moist of a mouth was lacking.

This time he pressed, he pressed until his dick's head was touching Alfred's uvula. The dangling nerve tickled the slit on Ivan's cock and Ivan paused in his intrusion. He moaned and rubbed the thing on his slit before he heard Alfred gag. Oh, wouldn't want him to puke on him. So he continued until his dick hit the back of Alfred's throat and in that he heard Alfred gasping around him.

"Through the nose, my sunflower," Ivan suggested and then rolled his hips, making Alfred gag again. He then smiled at hearing Alfred attempt to breathe through his nose. Would you look at that, he was listening to him. With a frown, Ivan looked down and noticed Alfred wasn't sucking, in fact he was just sitting there with his mouth open wide and his teeth grazing over the skin whilst trying not to bite and not to gag. "Suck," Ivan commanded and gripped Alfred's hair tighter.

Alfred glanced up at him defiantly. Nothing Ivan could do would change that look in his eyes and Ivan enjoyed the glare. He felt himself harden at the sight of it and he knew Alfred did as well as he gasped through his nostrils and almost choked again, the saliva running down his chin just fell into a pool.

"Go on, stare at me like that," Ivan bade as he offered a small thrust into Alfred's mouth. "See how I re_act_."

Alfred choked once more and when he glared up at Ivan the Russian saw the threat and the very moment he felt teeth coming down Ivan pushed Alfred away, striking him across the face in the process while his cock slipped unharmed out of the agent's mouth. While Alfred lay there choking and gaging to catch breath Ivan took the moment of ease to slip off his torn pants, wincing as his right thigh moved, his wound already clotted. When he was as free as Alfred he took hold of him again and flipped him onto his hands and knees.

Alfred _hated_ this position. It allowed for deeper penetration on Ivan's part but for Alfred not being able to see his husband's face it was torture. Ivan doubted he even cared about seeing his face right now and so he thrust into him in one powerful slam of the hips. Alfred hissed out and hung his head low.

"Is that . . . is that how you fucking commies fuck . . . like dogs?" Alfred jabbed back with a smirk as he looked back at Ivan who frowned at the comment.

"American civilians are much more polite than government puppets," Ivan bit back as he leaned forward, wrapping his arm around Alfred's chest and then pulling him back to let him sit on his lap with his back against Ivan's chest. Pulling Alfred's arms up he motioned them to wrap around his neck, touching just the tips of the back of his ashen hair. "Hang on," Ivan said huskily as he leaned forward and licked Alfred's ear shell before throwing his hands to the man's hips and thrusting up into him with force.

Alfred's entire body jerked forward with so much force that he leaned forward. The second thrust did the same and by the third Alfred's balance was thrown. His weight pulled on Ivan and they both fell face first back to the dirtied ground littered with glass and splinters. It was Alfred's hand that caught them from crushing their skulls against the ground but he couldn't hold up his weight as well as Ivan's and the Russian didn't seem in the faintest to care as he rammed himself in at a speed Alfred's never felt before but welcomed in spite.

So, Alfred planted is knees on the ground, spread wide for Ivan, but just close enough to keep himself stably up and the horny ass Russian on top of him mercilessly pounding him to dust. If Alfred let his abdomen fall the floor he could kiss his painfully good erection goodbye, too much glass. With the hand that caught them he turned and placed their upper weight on his forearm instead so to save his wrist from spraining like the other one.

Alfred could hardly see anything because of his swollen eye and the ruination of his glasses, but he could feel it all. Ivan was buried so deep inside him that Alfred swore he'd never shit for a month. His digestive track was going to be so fucked up after this, but Alfred looked forward to the constipation. Ivan's never been this rough with him and personally he didn't think he had it in him . . . . but those KGB agents, such sexual sadists.

"Harder, you fucking commie!" Alfred demanded as he reached back around with his other hand, the twisted one, and grabbed a hold of Ivan's hair while the Russian pressed close to his neck and sucked hungrily.

One and then two thrusts followed Alfred's demand. With such a force that it knocked the wind right out of Alfred. He closed his eyes and reveled in it. His body shuddered forward with every pound and Alfred knew his elbow and knees were being torn to shit. But he liked. He loved it. The pain, the pleasure. God he loved being an agent.

"Yes! That's it!" Alfred cried out when his prostrate was rammed into. "Fuck me like the animal you are!"

He knew that's what they looked like; two animals going at it. With Ivan's cock so far inside him Alfred almost forgot where he was, who he was, what was even happening to him.

Soviet Union.

United States.

KGB.

CIA.

Agents.

Spies.

Matthew.

Ivan.

Ivan's cock.

"AH!" Alfred cried out as he spilt himself on the ground below. He shook violently from the orgasmic shudder. That had been the best goddamn orgasm he's EVER had. He should feel ashamed. He should feel disgusted with himself. His husband was a traitor, hell he wasn't even his husband under these horrific circumstances. Just wait until he told the President about . . . _oh_ that cock!

"Fuck! Make me harder! Touch me, dammit!" Alfred demanded. He would not touch himself. He could, yes, he has millions of times when his dear husband was absent. But now, Alfred wanted to be in control. He wanted to dominate Ivan even if he was the one being fucked.

To his surprise Ivan reached down between his legs and grabbed a hold of Alfred's hardening dick and gave it a strong stroke before squeezing the base painfully tight. "Touch yourself, capitalist!" Ivan spat in his ear before taking the lobe into his mouth and biting hard and pulling.

"You little s-shit!" Alfred spat, pulling his head away and feeling Ivan's teeth tear into the skin of his ear from the pull. His face was red with frustration and of course embarrassment. When he felt Ivan swell inside him he knew what was to come. The Russian leaned himself back off of his spine and arched up toward the ceiling. He came with a cry in his native tongue—Alfred hated Russian. Wasn't a sexy language at all. But Ivan did sway his mind . . . just a little.

When Alfred felt the last of Ivan's cum shoot out of him he seized the moment of Ivan's low defense and strength and pushed himself back. He heard Ivan gasp and smirked at the feel of the Russian hardening inside him once more. If he had to use Ivan like a toy just to get back at him for that little rude gesture then he would. Alfred refused to touch himself.

Fingers rubbing his hips now curled again with a bear-like strength and when Ivan thrust hard into him again Alfred felt the dick harden.

"Come on, you softy—you can't go limp this fast." Alfred teased. "They sterilize you that much in _Mother_ _Russia_?"

A slap to his ass cheek made Alfred gasp and he glared back at Ivan whose eyes were dark once again. That long tongue of his out, licking at his dry and cut lips. Alfred hated spankings. He had been such a bratty child and would continue to be such even in front of his traitorous husband.

"You don't know my motherland so you have no right to talk about it, filthy American," Ivan spat as he reached down and spread Alfred's cheeks for easier movement. Alfred only responded with a raised middle finger. "Gladly," Ivan responded in kind and then he reached down and grabbed a hold of Alfred's right arm.

"AH!" Alfred cried out but Ivan noticed that was from pain. Pulling him closer but not losing his rhythm he examined him and noticed the gunshot wound he had inflicted on him. Ivan wasn't sorry for it, but he could help. Rubbing his hand over it made the American groan.

"Stop touching, keep fucking!" Alfred shouted his demand but it went ignored by Ivan apart from the fucking of course.

Ivan narrowed his eyes and pressed down on the wound, feeling the lump from the bullet. Alfred groaned and tried wiggling him off of him but Ivan only leaned forward and crushed him below, Alfred once again found himself supporting both their weight as he was fucked senseless while the Russian examined the wound. The American gasped upon feeling a hot mouth press on the wound and begin sucking.

"Ah! S-STOP!" Alfred was usually good at handling wounds, just as long as a doctor tended to them and not some maniac spy!

When Ivan bit down on the wound Alfred felt tears prick his eyes. That hurt so fucking mu—_oh_! Ivan's other hand on his hip suddenly took hold of his thigh and wrapped it around his hip backwards and held it there tightly as his hips suddenly angled and Alfred was penetrated differently and hit right _there_.

While Alfred cried out in pleasure Ivan took the time to pull out the bullet with his teeth. He spit the piece of lead out and listened to it clack against the floor before ending off in a roll. The bullet upon impact had hit Alfred's shoulder blade at a strange angle and cracked the bone, but it remained lodged there until Ivan moved it with his feeling hand and then bit and sucked it out with his mouth. It wasn't the best idea to do with an imbedded bullet and Ivan would rather have used his fingers but most of them were taken.

He smirked against the wound as Alfred gasped from the release of the embedded thorn. When it was gone though Alfred suddenly found his strength returned. He pushed back and smacked Ivan's forehead with the back of his skull, the hardest part of the head. Pulling himself off of Ivan, Alfred turned and straddled his hips before sitting on him again and continuing their pace.

Ivan had taken the bullet out of Alfred when he could have left it in him to fester and become infected. Alfred was confused. He didn't know what was happening anymore. First they were trying to kill each other for the honor of their countries the next they were having a marriage argument and then they were fucking like two whores in downtown Hollywood. What was wrong with Alfred? What was wrong with Ivan?

Before Alfred knew it he was leaning forward and kissing Ivan. It wasn't just pure lust of bloody gums and tongues, no, it was a kiss full of love and Ivan had felt it. He kissed back with equal passion and then their breakneck speed of fucks slowed. Ivan thrust up into Alfred deeper, rolling his hips in time with Alfred's who had slowed as well. It was like how they used to make love, upstairs, in their bedroom. Alfred would say 89 percent of their lovemaking happened in their bed as was tradition with the American culture—he didn't even want to know about the Russian culture and their sexual normalities. But Alfred liked it that way because they didn't have to shift uncomfortably on the couch, or groan at the ache in their backs after bending over the dining room table, or worry about someone seeing them in their car. The room was sacred to Alfred because they took their time getting to know the other's body all over again and memorizing their sweet cries of pleasu—

"I-Ivan, oh!" Alfred gasped out softly as he wrapped his arms around his husband's neck and closed his eyes tenderly, feeling tears begin to seep out. He wouldn't have ever thought they'd ever make love again.

He hummed out his groans along his throat before leaning up and kissing Ivan softly on his bruised neck and then on all of the cuts and bruises on his face, starting with that broken nose of his. Ivan's lips part to gape at Alfred's sudden change and it wasn't long before he too changed and began letting his hands roam around Alfred before he took up his wrist and kissed it gently and then took up something from the tattered remnants of his pants. Rubbing those calloused fingers he coaxed them straight before placing the golden wedding band back on Alfred's ring finger.

Alfred gapped at the gesture and looked up at Ivan in confusion. He needed an answer as to why he would do something like this when clearly their marriage—

Alfred's lips trembled as his eyes blinked away unwanted tears. He slid his hands away from Ivan's body and touched the cold metal. Curling his fingers inward Alfred pressed his hand against his heart and looked at Ivan with desperation—desperation to save their marriage. But how? Ivan was working for Russia, a nation in rival with the United States which Alfred served with reverence. They were enemies and could not go against the land which birthed them, against the governments that paid them nicely for their devotion.

Ivan had lied to him. He had killed so many Americans. He had killed Mattie, Alfred's own twin brother! How could he still look at Ivan with so much love when the man himself stated he did it to save their marriage? What kind of a husband kills their brother-in-law to save their marriage? Russians maybe, but not Americans . . . at least, Alfred didn't think they did. Times were strange now so it was all very confusing.

Alfred had time to dwell on those thoughts, but right now, as Ivan pressed him back gently onto their bed—huh, when had they gotten there?—and spread his knees apart to press inside him again Alfred's mind shut to the world around him as he let his husband make love to him. His KGB husband.

Alfred was starting to feel the pains and aches from the damage Ivan had done to him earlier but every groan from any wound Ivan would caress the spot and as if magic splayed out of his fingertips, the pain would disappear. So Alfred moaned out softly as Ivan kissed his neck and sucked over the scrapes and the cuts and the swollen skin.

Reaching out, Alfred grasped Ivan's left hand and pulled it down to kiss, especially the golden band he never took off. When he looked up at Ivan he watched the Russian's eyes soften with affection and now he wondered if it was all a bad dream; getting permission to search and to kill the Russian who killed Matthew, finding him at a beach resort in Spain, taunting him from his sniper rifle only to find he looked just like Ivan. It had to be a bad dream because Ivan was his husband. Ivan wouldn't hurt a thing. Ivan was the love of his life and he didn't think he'd be able to give that up.

_I'm so sorry, Mattie_, Alfred inwardly cried at the guilt trying to push its way into his heart only to be pressed out by the overflow of love seeping from it as Ivan leaned down and kissed him deep while thrusting gently into his ripped entrance and caressing his thighs to wrap around him while he picked up the pace to finish the both of them.

Ivan held the both of them off until they came together. When Ivan collapsed on top of Alfred he nearly dozed off he had been so tired. Alfred didn't mind his weight anymore. He was strong and so he wrapped his arms around Ivan and held him close against him and stroked the back of his thick neck until he fell asleep while still embedded within him.

Alfred didn't move and soon found his own eyes drooping until he welcomed the blackness of his unfair life.

* * *

Ivan woke up slowly. When he tried to stretch he groaned. His side was killing him and his nose . . . reaching up he felt the broken cartilage. He would need to see a doctor soon. In fact, so would Alfred.

Turning around he noticed Alfred sitting in their reading chair. He had yet to open the blinds to let in the morning sunlight but Ivan could still see him. He looked like he had taken a shower, didn't know when, but he was cleaner despite many of his wounds received. He was dressed as well and on his lap laid his hand, his hand that clutched his gun.

Ivan nodded in understanding. This was his final moment. Fine. He had lived his life loyal to the land of his birth and loyal to his heart. He had loved his husband with all his might despite their differences. He would die with pride no matter what.

"Go ahead," Ivan said as he straightened his form to his best ability. The gunshot wound was hurting and it felt like it had reopened since he sat up. "Kill your husband."

"You're not my husband," Alfred bitterly stated and Ivan watched his fingers grip on the gun tighten. "Ivan Braginski. 'S probably not even your real name so our wedding documents are a hoax."

"That is my real name," Ivan assured. "I wouldn't lie to you."

"Except when the USSR gets in the way," Alfred said with a bitter laugh.

"You are the same with your U. S. of A.," Ivan reminded in all fairness to one's loyalty. "What about your name? Is that even real?"

"Of course," Alfred scoffed. "I just go by different names when on missions. I'm sure you do as well. Which mission am I?"

"I told you that is my real name," Ivan reasoned. "I go by a different name on missions as well. We're not so different."

"No, I guess not," Alfred said before bringing the gun up and letting the barrel tap against his temple. He let out a frustrated sigh and then dropped his gun back on his lap, covering his mouth. "Damn it, I don't know what to do . . . I mean I do, but then . . ."

"I will not let them have you."

Alfred's hurt blue eyes turned toward his husband and furrowed his brow. "Who?" he asked.

"My comrades. My government," Ivan explained. "They have a high warrant for your capture in the Kremlin."

"Really?" Suddenly a playful smile splayed across Alfred's features. "Don't I feel honored. Same with you, bastard."

"I cannot deny my people," Ivan explained. "I will continue with my missions."

"Then how about I kill you right here and make my job easier?" Alfred stated as he pointed his gun to him quickly. Ivan smirked. He had quick reflexes. Good, at least he wouldn't have to worry about him when the States send him off on another daunting mission.

"Why don't you?" Ivan asked before he let out a sigh and groaned as he got up. He was sore everywhere, especially his penis. He hadn't ever been this sore before, usually it was the other party. Now he was curious to see Alfred get up and walk around.

Ignoring the gun pointed at him Ivan walked over to his dresser and pulled out a new pair of clothes before heading toward the bathroom. He turned and motioned for Alfred to come. "There is room in the shower if you wish to join."

"Already showered," Alfred said as he ran his hand through his shampooed hair. "I'll wait for you, babe." With a wink Alfred lowered his gun. Ivan was surprised Alfred let him go like that.

In the end, when Ivan was cleaned, he and Alfred talked it out like mature adults in a mature marriage. They tried their best to keep the insults of the other's country to a minimum, but at least this time no shots were fired or no punches thrown. Both were immensely sore and both requested sick days from their governments, while looking at their ruined home.

"I'm not moving, I'm not," Alfred said as he crossed his arms in reluctance as he gazed at the mess. No, they wouldn't move, so they called for repairs. They both had been lucky that their next-door-neighbors had been out of town that night and that the other neighbors from across the street had been easily fooled into their explanation at what the noise was. Ivan explained it was a new puppy he had presented Alfred with and so the two went out and bought a dog afterwards to make it look convincing.

They named the Russian Terrier: James Bond, well; Alfred named him that because of his love for the super spy. Ivan, however simply calls him Sobaka which Alfred never really liked.

The little puppy grew and grew and grew until he really did ruin their home to near what Ivan and Alfred had done to it but he was a good dog and he made Alfred happy and kept him company when Ivan was away at "work". Vice versa when Alfred was off and Ivan alone with the animal.

So, now, after a few struggles with coming to terms that their feelings for each other could not force the other to kill the other—though it came quite close—the two decided not to tell their governments that they were indeed married to the most wanted spy from the rival countries. It was a cruel irony and very funny at that.

Alfred never forgave Ivan from killing Matthew but he still lay under him and spread his legs willing. He still kissed him goodbye when he left for work but never once again offered him a pleasant day, instead he hoped he'd have a horrible day full of medical bills—they both could afford it.

So now, as Ivan was ordered to kidnap or acquire information, Alfred was ordered to put a stop to him, in other words kill him, though Alfred always returned to his Commander and Chief in explanation that the dastard Russian spy just always seemed to get away from him.

And that was how their game went on. Sure their marriage was definitely ruined, but at the same time it was always brought back to life again after passionate kisses and loving touches and a big wet tongue to the side of the face as Bond came in between the two who were trying to cuddle and possibly get to some love making. But, nope, that dog which was now the size of a horse, liked sleeping with them and so Alfred hated Ivan even more for buying such a cock-blocking dog.


End file.
